


Weeping Endureth

by sabinelagrande



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Incest, Pastiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-31
Updated: 2007-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was an up-to-date town hall in an out-of-date company town on a backwater moon."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weeping Endureth

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://anitchka.livejournal.com/profile)[**anitchka**](http://anitchka.livejournal.com/) at [](http://community.livejournal.com/serenity_santa/profile)[**serenity_santa**](http://community.livejournal.com/serenity_santa/). This is the first time I've ever written deliberate pastiche. [I'm so sorry, Betty Smith.](http://web.njit.edu/~cjohnson/tree/joy/joy.htm) Thanks to [](http://leiascully.livejournal.com/profile)[**leiascully**](http://leiascully.livejournal.com/) for saving me from my own tense changes.

It was an up-to-date town hall in an out-of-date company town on a backwater moon. The corridor was crowded with settlers of all descriptions, jockeying for positions on the many low benches that stood at intervals against the walls.

One of the benches was occupied by a boy named Simon and a girl named River. There was a very old, very worn duffel bag next to the girl, and she gave it a possessive pat from time to time. The boy ignored the crowd, which made him seem calm even though he wasn't.

"Next!" the grizzled old clerk behind the counter called after some minutes, and the boy led the girl to her, the girl dragging her bag behind them.

"Name," the clerk said.

"Tracey and Regan Smith," the boy answered smoothly.

"Age."

"Twenty-eight."

She looked from the boy to the girl. "Her age."

"Nineteen."

"Relation."

"We're married," the girl answered, too quickly. The clerk gave the boy a hard look.

"Skills and trades."

"Medical training."

The clerk made a disgruntled noise. "I can't let in every," she pursed her lips, "couple that ever learned to change a bandage-"

At his nod, the girl produced a box from her bag, placing it on the counter and opening it towards the clerk.

Without another word, the clerk stamped their papers, and they walked down the corridor and into the midday sun.

\--

"There's a wave," the errant boy panted, breathless from running across town, "for somebody named Simon Tam."

The man who had been Simon finished the line of stitches with steady, practiced hands, not looking up from his work. "There's no one here by that name."

"I thought it might be one of the patients," the messenger explained, sounding a bit put out at having come for no reason.

"Nobody here but us chickens," he replied, shrugging and thanking the gods that the boy didn't notice the thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow.

\--

The children gathered around the woman who had been River, bickering amongst themselves.

"Tell us a story," they clamored.

"There was a beautiful maiden," she said, "who fell under a spell."

"I've heard this one."

"This is different," she told him. "There was no evil stepmother, or fairy godmother, or magic spindle, but an evil alliance."

"Was she rescued by a handsome prince?"

She laughed. "Maybe you have heard this one."

\--

The boy and the girl lay in the bed in their room. It was small, the paint chipping from the walls, but the girl did her best, filling the windows with flowers.

He tracked the growing light of dawn as it reached across the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster. She stirred against him, holding him tightly as if she were afraid to lose him.

"This isn't what you want," she whispered against his collarbone.

"It isn't about what I want, mei mei," he said earnestly. "It's about what we can have."

She let him believe it, kissing him quiet.

\--

He kept the pistol leveled, even as he was apologizing.

"This is why we didn't bring Jayne," Mal told Kaylee over his shoulder.

Zoe gave first, cracking her shotgun open in a gesture of peace.

"My name is Tracey," he said, still not moving.

"Hell," Mal replied, holstering his weapon. "You could've at least picked something decent."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please go."

\--

When their room fills up with light, he wakes her, his hands warm and strong on her soft skin.

She smiles. "This is my song of joy," she tells him, kissing him before he can respond.


End file.
